Classical music alive and well in Russia

Feb. 26, 2014

Updated 5:22 p.m.

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The interior of the rebuilt historical Bolshoi Theatre - a view from the stage. In Russian the word Bolshoi means "grand." The earliest communist leaders had their meetings in this theater. COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

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The chandelier inside of the rebuilt Bolshoi Theatre weighs two tons. COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

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COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

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The exterior of the rebuilt historical Bolshoi Theatre. COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

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Ball in the garden during Godunov at the Bolshoi Theatre. DAMIR YUSUPOV

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The interior of the rebuilt historical Bolshoi Theatre. COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

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A sign bridges the original Mariinsky Theatre, right, from the 19th century, and the new hall that opened in 2013 and cost about a billion dollars. PICASA

The interior of the rebuilt historical Bolshoi Theatre - a view from the stage. In Russian the word Bolshoi means "grand." The earliest communist leaders had their meetings in this theater. COURTESY OF THE BOLSHOI THEATRE

On a recent journey, I discovered the main river coursing through Russia. It wasn't the Volga, the Neva or the Don. (And not vodka, either, though there was plenty sloshing around.)

It was classical music.

The preoccupation and passion for music – and from that wellspring, opera and dance – seem to flow through everyday life in Russian cities like a streaming torrent.

Within 24 hours of arrival, I encountered five people separately walking along streets with cello cases strapped to their backs, literally bearing their music as they went.

At a pleasantly scruffy coffee spot, a 19-year old barista/vocal student, at only the slightest urging, serenaded our small group with a beguiling Ukrainian melody that filled the little space with soaring sound. She then enthusiastically invited us to a free concert at the next door St. Petersburg State Conservatory, where composers Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev and Shostakovich studied.

During intermission of a minor, sardonic Russian opera, several attendees – none older than 10 – casually clambered up onto the lip above the orchestra pit, eating snacks and gazing around the gold-gilt, wooden hall. No adults chased them off since, apparently, this was a commonplace occurrence in one of the world's most notable classical venues.

St. Petersburg's Mariinsky complex

These days, St. Petersburg's sparkle quotient is high, the waterfront city's compact central core vibrantly laced with canals and small islands, trim and fresh. The landscape is walkable, the vibe welcoming.

By European standards, St. Petersburg is a young town. Leading into the town's 300th anniversary in 2003, the federal government allocated around $1 billion for cosmetic improvements. By now, major restorations of churches and palaces are in the rearview mirror – we happily encountered none of the typical tourism disappointment of ancient architecture shrouded in scaffolding. And Russian president Vladimir Putin's autocratic reign has seemingly continued to funnel largesse into his hometown.

Nowhere is this more evident than at the bustling Mariinsky performing arts complex, the centerpiece of St. Petersburg's musically historic Theatre Square. Under the ambitious guidance of conductor Valery Gergiev – familiar locally for bringing Wagner's four-opera “Ring” Cycle to Costa Mesa in 2006, the first-ever live production of the complete work experienced in Southern California – the Mariinsky, once a single opera and ballet palace, dating to 1860, is now a three-building campus.

A 1,600-seat orchestral hall premiered in 2006, but the current talk of the town is the modernistic Mariinsky II theater, which opened in May. This cavernous, 2,000-seat space for opera and ballet, reportedly costing some $700 million, was underwritten by the federal government (Gergiev is an adamant Putin supporter) and was nine years in the making.

The result is a sleek and shiny, 21st-century cultural shrine that might feel more at home in some new-money U.S. town than in culturally historic St. Petersburg. Mind you, it does gleam: wow-factor details include a sleek overlay of marble from Iran and stone from Italy, interior onyx walls studded by Swarovski crystals, a spiraling glass staircase several floors high and an outdoor rooftop terrace for summertime dining and chamber concerts.

But during an oooh and ahhh-worthy tour, I found myself silently tweaking an old cliché: “Well, it may not be home, but it is much.” I also felt a pang of yearning for the original, stately Mariinsky hall just across the Kriukov canal, which in comparison seems old-timey and even comfy.

In this luxe woodwork and gold trim Fabergé egg of a venue, I experienced what I formally sought in coming to St. Petersburg: opera and ballet productions of intensely Russian creations showcasing virtuoso technique and world-class performance.

A whirlwind 18 hours delivered a production of “Giselle,” which showed off the company's legendary female core at peak perfection (though, admittedly, the ballet was compromised a bit by a competent, if not dazzling, roster of lead dancers).

The next afternoon, I experienced an operatic rarity, at least on U.S. stages: composer Sergei Prokofiev's early-career “The Love for Three Oranges,” a sardonic curiosity from 1921 with a lively score incorporating jazz and dissonance. Helpful English supertitles – always supplied in the major theaters when operas are sung in native Russian – and a raucous production, spilling into the aisles and the royal box in the back of the hall, added up, especially in a first act that was joyously staged.

My takeaway from both performances was the sheer musicality driving every dance and aria. It turns out that what we don't experience when Russian companies visit the west are the homegrown, fully stocked orchestras, with 70, 80 or more conservatory-trained musicians. The playing was rich and romantic – no minimalism here. On the other hand, the conducting was uniformly precise and focused, to the point. So, as full as the staging, scenery and lighting was, the quality of music underpinning the exemplary song and dance is what echoed in my mind.

A bit woozy from the high-quality experience, I wondered, as our bullet train barreled 5½ hours south and east to the steel-wool skies of cold, impersonal Moscow, could it possibly get any better than this?

Moscow and the Bolshoi Theatre

In some ways, it turned out, it could.

If the Mariinsky is renowned for classic purity, the Bolshoi Theatre is seen by Russians as being big and brassy, garish and glitzy. Not that this is a bad thing. An in-house spokeswoman, leading us on a comprehensive tour of the recently refurbished main Bolshoi theater – the cost here, again, tallying in the now familiar total of hundreds of millions of dollars – said in fluent, rapid-fire English, with no trace of apology: “Russian people come to the Bolshoi to experience the chandelier as much as the show.”

Even the scandals that rock the Bolshoi on a routine basis seem oversized. Most recently, the ballet's artistic director was targeted in an acid attack that traced back to a company member seeking revenge for casting slights and artistic decisions. He was sentenced in December to six years in prison for masterminding the attack. In November, a Southern California-raised dancer quit the troupe, saying she was extorted for bribes of up to $10,000 in exchange for prominent roles in major ballets.

The shows we encountered reflected these oversize appetites, but inside the Bolshoi's two sizable theaters on Moscow's imperious Theatre Square, excess did not equal bloated indulgence, but blissful fullness.

If there is one Russian opera to see at the Bolshoi (again, gotta love those English supertitles!), it is the 3½ hour-plus sprawl of Mussorgsky's 19th-century “Boris Godunov.” A four-part, multi-act survey of tumultuous czarist life and times, this opera in the United States is invariably erratically cast and cheaply staged.

But the Bolshoi's no-expense-spared production in Moscow (the government foots the staging bills, too) was a stunning Rose Parade of spectacle, one lavishly mounted and costumed scene following another. And yet, making it vital and alive were the rich playing from the orchestra and compelling singing that seemed to tap into the lifeblood Russian-ness of the piece.

Across the square, in the Bolshoi's smaller house, the ballet “Don Quixote” was notably stronger than the usual featherweight display of acrobatic spins, leaps and preening that marks American presentations of this work. “Don Quixote” is historically a Bolshoi showcase, choreographed for and danced by the company since 1869. For this performance, we got lucky and saw world-class stars in the two leading roles.

Beyond the flash, though, and the superior lighting, costuming and staging, rapturously played music flooded from the pit, washing over the entire evening.

A stream of sound joining a mighty river … one that seemingly rushes straight from the Russian soul.

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